


What Hurts the Most

by kosmickway (KMDWriterGrl)



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:17:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/kosmickway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-ep for "Institutional Memory." What happened when CJ arrived at Toby's apartment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Hurts the Most

_What hurts the most was being so close, having so much to say, and watching you walk away._

_And never knowing what could have been ... and not seeing that loving you was what I was trying to do._ -Rascal Flatts

 

When he answered the door she was on the other side with a team of agents and a bottle of wine. 

 

“It’s not a present, I need a drink,” she proclaimed. 

 

The agents swept the room– he was dying to point out what a fruitless exercise that was considering that he hadn’t left the house in days– and left, doubtless taking up posts outside the door. 

 

“I’m still pissed at you,” she said, digging around in the drawer for a bottle opener. 

 

“That’s a wonderful way to start a conversation.”

 

“Just thought I’d throw that out there.” She was digging into the cork as if she hated it. “I’m still pissed and I don’t know what the hell to do about it.”

 

“And so you came here to do what exactly? Hope I’d suggest a suitable punishment?”

 

“I’d string you up on the yard arm and flog you within an inch of your life if it was my choice.”

 

“Kinky.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“No, fuck _you_!” His temper was at the breaking point. “Don’t show up at my house all bitter recriminations, CJ, and expect me to take it in the teeth. I’m getting what I deserve, okay? What else do you want from me?”

 

“Why don’t we start with an apology?”

 

“To _you_? Why should I apologize to you? I screwed _my_ life up, not yours.”

 

“If you think my life isn’t screwed up because of this you are sorely mistaken. The publicity alone–“

 

“Fuck the publicity, CJ! Jesus, can’t you, for once, think about something other than the White House?”

 

“That’s rich, coming from you!”

 

 

“Look, I _did_ think about something other than the White House. You may not like it, but you’re not the one who has to live with it! Shit happens, CJ. People do things that disappoint and piss you off. Are you planning on dealing with it like an adult or are you planning on holding a grudge and never talking to me again?”

 

CJ slammed the bottle of wine on the counter with such force that the heavy base cracked. Wine began to leak in rivulets over the counter. 

 

“Fuck!” CJ exploded, and slammed the bottle into the sink. Grabbing some paper towels she began to furiously scrub at the counter. Toby could see she was blinking back tears and that, he knew, was going to be what really got to him. Her tears were always the thing that could unglue him. 

 

“CJ.” He stepped in front of her and grasped her arms. “Claudia. Look at me.”

 

She looked at him and, sure enough, angry tears swelled over and down her cheeks. 

 

“I’m so mad at you,” she repeated. “You really fucked up.”

 

“You think I don’t know that?”

 

“I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t even know why I’m here.”

 

“You needed a drink.”

 

“Yeah.” CJ wiped her eyes and returned to the sink, where wine was oozing out of the cracked bottle. “I do.” She poured two glasses. “Danny wants me to go to California with him.”

 

“Are you going?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“What’s stopping you?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“I do.”

 

“Enlighten me then.” She knocked back a swallow of wine. 

 

“Us.”

 

“What about us?”

 

“The fact that you haven’t given up on there being an us.”

 

 

“I–“ CJ took another heavy swallow of wine. “I think you lost me.”

 

“You know I haven’t. Why do you show up here at midnight with a bottle of wine, all piss and vinegar, and pretend that your being pissed off is merely because you’re worried about me?”

 

“Because you’re my friend, idiot!”

 

“Because there’s something else there and there always has been and you can’t get past it.”

 

“I think you’re projecting!”

 

“Danny is perfect for you and you’re sitting here telling me that you don’t know why you can’t go with him to California. It’s because of this, CJ, you and me and the tension that’s lived between us for the last ten years. It’s because we’re fighting what shouldn’t be fought. But the difference between you and me is I’ve been trying to get past it and you’ve been burying it.”

 

“Are you really sitting here telling me that I want to sleep with you and that I’ve been denying it?”

 

“If the shoe fits.”

 

“The shoe doesn’t fit! The shoe’s so damn far from fitting that not even the biggest shoe horn in the Western hemisphere could make it work!”

 

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

 

CJ looked as though she was ready to throw the wine in his face. “Toby–“

 

“What?”

 

For a second he really did think he was going to get a faceful of Merlot. Then CJ set the glass down on the counter and deliberately took the three steps that would put her in his personal space. “Goddammit.”

 

And then her mouth was on his, restless, searing, and his hands, instead of pushing her away, were pulling at her to draw her closer. His mouth was responding eagerly to hers and hers to his and within a moment he had her pressed back against the edge of the counter, her body flush against his. They fit seamlessly together, as he’d known somehow that they would.  

 

He kissed her until she was breathless then dragged his mouth across her throat as she gasped in a shuddering breath.

 

“Jesus, Toby!” It was half sigh, half moan, and it turned him on like nothing else could. He moved his hips against hers and felt her shudder. 

 

 

Her hands were pulling at his shirt, trying to get at his skin, and his would have been, too, if he hadn’t found himself so damn preoccupied with the way she responded to his touch. He could feel her pulse racing in her throat and her skin heating up as he kissed her neck. 

 

“CJ ...” He groaned when her hands touched his skin and then again, more desperately, when her fingers dug into his back, pulling him tighter against her. “Fuck!”

 

“Oh yeah,” she murmured. “Oh god, yeah.” She ground against him until her back arched and she was gasping for breath. “Touch me, Toby, oh god, put your hands on me.” Her voice was taut and though they’d never been intimate this way before, though he’d only ever imagined them like this, he knew instinctively that the strain in her voice was because she was turned on as high as she could be and was desperate for a release. 

 

When he stepped back, she moaned a little and her eyes, when they met his, were hurt. He laid a finger gently across her lips to quiet her and began to deftly work her skirt up.

 

“Hold on to my shoulders,” he murmured, getting to his knees in front of her. 

 

He worked her with his tongue, holding her hips in his hands. She clung to him, moaning, steadying herself as best she could as he worked her up to and then propelled her off of a jagged peak. Her legs gave way and she sank onto the floor in front of him, pressed her forehead against his. 

 

“You okay?” he asked, one hand coming up to touch her cheek.

 

“Oh yeah,” she breathed, covering his hand with hers. “Definitely okay. I just need a minute to stop shaking.”

 

Toby took her face in his hands and kissed her, sweetly, slowly. “Take your time.”

 

They both knelt on the kitchen floor, leaning into each other, listening to the rhythm of each other’s breath. “Tell me you can do that again,” CJ whispered.

 

“I can do that again. Can _you_ do that again? Because damn, Claudia, I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t get to feel you come like that when I’m inside of you.” 

 

CJ laughed a little. “With the right incentive, I can do anything a second time. Or a third. And, if I’m really lucky, a fourth.”

 

“You’re going to wear me out,” Toby said with a slight smile. “Where’d all the energy come from? I thought you’d had a long day.”

 

“I did. But nothing makes a day better than a little post-work love-making.” She reached up to touch Toby’s cheek. “Is that what this is going to be?”

 

“Making love?” he asked. “You tell me.”

 

“Well, it—Yeah. That’s what it would be. For me. I mean, this isn’t just a roll in the hay. Not with you. It could never be something meaningless with you.” She waited for his response and grew more uncomfortable as the silence stretched. “Is that what it would be? For you? Making love, I mean?”

 

“You know it would be,” Toby replied simply. “I’m not in to one-night stands. And you’re not either.” He took her hand, held it in both of his. “And we both know we haven’t waited ten years for a night that can be filed away in a mental Rolodex.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “I’ve been waiting for the chance to feel you moving against me while I’m moving inside you.”

 

CJ caught Toby’s lips in a warm, deep kiss. “I’m still mad at you, you know.”

 

Toby nodded. “I know.”

 

“But angry sex can be pretty hot.”

 

Toby chuckled. “Any kind of sex with you, Claudia, is bound to be hot.” He slid his hand to the back of her neck and drew her closer to him. “Can you let that go? Just for a few hours?”

 

CJ nodded, tipped her head back to let Toby kiss her throat. “I can do that. For a few hours.”

 

He stood, extended a hand, helped her up. “You know where the bedroom is. I’ll be right behind you.”

 

As CJ walked out of the room, a smile on her lips, he took the cracked bottle of wine and poured the dregs down the sink. He’d need his wits about him if he wanted to keep CJ for longer than a night.

 

END.  


End file.
